


On a Field of Broken Glass

by RyMagnatar



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, Sadstuck?, crushyourheartstuck?, sobbingforeverstuck, stop no my heart, why blackrom why
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-02
Updated: 2012-05-02
Packaged: 2017-11-04 17:24:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/396323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RyMagnatar/pseuds/RyMagnatar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You don't have much time left.<br/>You want to go out of this world the way you spent your life. </p><p>Draw your gun, Eridan Ampora.<br/>Dave Strider doesn't go easy, even when he's the one who wants to die. </p><p>STRIFE!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dave: End the Strife

Glass crunched under foot as he stepped towards you. You tightened your grip on the hilt in your hand, but the blade has been broken down so close to the base that there are only three inches of the sharp metal in place.

Blood, hot and sticky, oozes down your face from the wound across your forehead. It runs down over your eyebrow, down your cheek, dripping from your chin. You close your eyes, just for a moment, to collect yourself. Your breath leaves your mouth in hot, painful gasps.

Finally he stops.

You lift your head and look up defiantly at him.

His grin splits his lips- as shining and purple as his blood- and reveal his yellowed fangs to you. He’s missing one; you knocked it out last week. Your knuckles are white as you grip the sword even tighter still. Your legs complain, your body screams, as you push yourself up to your feet. You spit blood and smirk at him. His gun is slung across his chest and leaning against his hip. He raises a black eyebrow over a purple eye. A black as night bruise is on his cheek from where you ground the butt of your hilt into his cheek, egging him on to cry like a bitch. That had been fun.

“Can’t keep this up, Eribubblebutt,” you purr, using the best damn bedroom voice that you can.

“Admitting defeat already? I thought you’d have a couple more swweeps left in that wweak fleshy bag you call a body.” His eyes are narrowed as he looks over your tattered frame. There’s lust in his eyes, as well as burning hate.

You thought you would too. But you don’t. After fucking everything you had gone through, the very thing that gives up on you is your goddamn body. You laugh at him, because you would never admit that. You slide a foot back, ready to advance on him. He looks you over again snarling viciously.

“You reely think you can take me, wwith that sorry excuse for a swword?” He taunts, his finger coiling around the trigger of his gun. It isn’t Ahab’s crosshairs anymore. You had sliced that fucker right in half in his hands fifteen years ago. He never forgave you, even though this sleek little black gun was four or five times better.

“I could take you with a butter knife, slice you open from gullet to bulge and make a beautiful fillet. Slap you on the grill and slather you in butter and lemon and I’ve got a goddamn fish fry barbeque.” You lift the remnants of your sword and ignore the painful throbbing in your spine. “I’d invite the whole damn neighborhood to come eat if you actually tasted any good.”

He sneers, purple lips pulling back over yellowed fangs. A beautiful contrast. You spit blood again and then flashstep to him. He sets off three rounds and only one clips your side, sending you spinning mid-step. Unfortunately for him, it sends you reeling exactly how you wanted to be. You spin right into his left side, where purple blood drips down his arm, and you pin the gun between the two of you. Your fist grabs a handful of that asshole’s purple cape’s collar and you look right into his purple eyes as you slide those precious inches of metal between ribs, in through the gill and right into his fucking aquatic based fucking alien heart bladder system shit.

They widen and he gives a hitched little breath. “I fuckin’ heard,” he says a little breathlessly, “That you wwere lookin’ to die inna fight, I didn’t fuckin’ _think_ you had the balls left to take me wwith you, you little shit.” This close, you can see under the bruise, under the injuries. He looks almost the same as he has for years. You’ve gotten older and all he’s had the nerve to do is grow out his goddamn horns. Fucking highbloods.

“Oh you know you like it, Eridork. How fucking romantic is that for you?” You twist the knife and send a shudder through his body. His claws are digging into your throat but you know you’ve got him so you don’t give one single fuck. “Never had a flushed little matesprit to leave this world with you, all you’ve got is me.”

Eridan smiles at you, all fangs and black tongue as he laughs. He leans in, and whispers, “Look wwho’s talkin’. Did all the bitches you say crawwlin after your swwag figure out you’re just a fuckin’ douche wwho livves in his brother’s shitty-ass apartment!”

“You fucker,” you drag him closer, crushing his mouth against yours. You bite hard, kissing those stupidly made up lips and making him bleed. He bites you right back, splitting your lip painfully but you don’t even fucking care. You press the knife in deeper and he gives a pain filled sound that you recognize as completely involuntary. When you yank back from the kiss, you lick your lip and swallow the blood. You look into his face.

He’s gritting his teeth, sweating and shining because of it. He’s purple and black and yellow and grey and he’s grinning at you still. He gives one shuddering breath and hisses, “You knoww killin’ your kismesis is against the rules of quadrants, Davvey.”

You yank the blade through his flesh, sliding it from side to front and making him gush violet purple. He gasps and his tight grip on your shoulder goes lax. His eyes become sightless in seconds, but you never look away from them. As he falls out of your arms and falls with a heavy thud on the purple and red splattered floor, you mumble, “I really wasn’t ever good at following the rules, Eridan.”

You crouch down beside him, angry and tired and feeling hopeless. Your hilt sticks out of his chest, still. He still has that manic grin on his face. His eyes are still open. You lean down, press a soft, tender kiss to his lips. Stupid, pathetic, hateful moron. Your jealousy and his possession drove the both of you to never have anything but each other- neither one of you could stand the thought of the other having someone they loved and cared about gently.

Glass cuts your knee as you shift down more and kiss his cooling, still bloody, still purple lips. You lick your blood, his blood, off his mouth and then look down at him. “Everyone fucking said you wouldn’t be good enough for me, or that you’d just disappoint me in the end.” They had said he could never pity right, never love right, all he could do was hate and fight. They said that about you too, but not to your face- not like they did to him.

The pale of your fingers, calloused from fighting and thickened with age, seem so strange against his throat, where you stroke grey skin and purple lines of his gills. Your fingers are numb, your whole body feels that way, numb and heavy and almost paralyzed with the finality of it all. Maybe they were right. In the end you needed him to kill you, to end your life with strife, the way you had lived.

Not to let you die of an uncontrollable group of cells in your body, rotting away in a bed somewhere with your hair gone and John and his family sniffling at your side. He wasn’t suppose to-

You choke for breath and suddenly the world is swimming. You reach for your throat but it just feels swollen, painfully so. You can’t breathe, and then your fingers can’t move. You feel your body slumping over, falling over his belly, with your arms stretched out and your breath coming in tiny, thread-like streams. Finally air is gone completely and you can’t move anything. You’re paralyzed.

You’re poisoned.

A memory, just on the edge of your mind.

_“Hold your fuckin’ horses, Davve. Wwe can fuck each other all you wwant as soon as I’m fuckin’ finished gettin’ ready!” he applies bright purple lipstick to his lips, shining in the light of the room. You tease him for being girly, for being so fucking flamboyant, for putting on lipstick to fight. He just smiles and takes it. That should have warned you. He never takes it. He just gets more and more furious until he scrubs it off- on your shirt._

You would laugh, laugh until you cried, because he fucking poisoned you and he fucking killed you even after he was already dead! Instead you simply cry and wish, silently, and with your lingering coherent thoughts, wish that you had had the balls, years ago, to tell him how much you pitied him.

It was never just hate, you cared about him more than that.

And somehow, you know, deep in the darkness of your dying mind, he made sure you would die because he cared too.

He made sure you died because that’s what you wanted.

Good rival.

Best lover.


	2. Eridan: Prepare for Strife!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A quick look into Eridan's thoughts before the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fuck you too html, fuck.you.too.

The phone on your bathroom counter was on speaker and the person on the phone was ranting like the asshole they were, filling your spacioius, gorgeously modern custom built bathroom with his growling voice.

Karkat was the only one of the trolls who spoke to you, no matter which one had any concerns. You still kind of, sometimes, respected his input as your once-leader even though he could have given it without the yelling. As it was, spending time dealing with him was distracting you from getting ready.

Everything was going to be abso-fuckin-lutely perfect about this meeting. You had moved your furniture out of the way, had loaded your gun, got your cape dry cleaned- all that remained was finishing dressing and waiting for him to arrive.

There’s silence in your bathroom and you comb your hair back in between your lightning bolt horns and ask, “Are you done Kar? I’vve got a date to finish dressin’ for.”

“WERE YOU NOT LISTENING TO A SINGLE FUCKING THING I JUST SAID? YOU BULGELICKING ASSHOLE HOW THICK IS YOUR THINKPAN COVER? DON’T STRIFE WITH STRIDER! THAT IS AN ORDER FROM YOUR LEADER!”

“You ain’t my leader anymore, Kar,” you say in the same pleasant tone as you hang up on him. You finish brushing your hair a few more times before it’s perfection and then you decide to go get your cape.

It’s your husktop, left open from a conversation that morning, that chimes and catches your attention as you fiddle with the golden clasp. You step closer and your fingers still as you look at the chat log. Dave's moirail is pestering you. Of course he would be. You slide into the chair and respond to him. 

EB: i know that you’re there

EB: karkat’s pissed because you hung up on him but that’s okay he’s pretty much always pissed off about something

EB: um

CA: is this about davve

EB: yes

EB: he got some news from the doctors the other day

CA: john i knoww about it

CA: im his fuckin kismesis

CA: kinda my responsibility to find out evverythin about him that i can use against him and shit like that

EB: wait you’re going to use this against him?

EB: you can’t do that!

EB: he needs help. he needs doctors!

CA: davve needs what davve needs and its not some shitty ass doctors in hospitals tellin him hes wweak when he isnt and makin him wweaker to make him live longer just to die later

CA: face it john

CA: youre human just like him

CA: youre gonna die sooner than youd like

CA: all of you are going to fuckin die sooner than youd like

EB: ….

EB: dammit eridan!

EB: I JUST WANT TO TAKE CARE OF HIM!!!!!!!!

CA: I knoww

EB: why won’t he let anyone help? why is he doing this to us!

CA: dont be stupid

CA: this isnt about you

CA: this is about him getting what he wwants

CA: wwhat he fuckin deservves

EB: so he deserves to die in pain????????

CA: he deservves to die howwevver he fuckin wants you moron

CA: howw am i the only one to see this about him

CA: wwhy are you all so fuckin blind

EB: please

EB: just let him know that we care about him.

EB: let him know that we want to help him!

CA: youvve done your part john

CA: this isnt somefin his moirail can do for him

CA: dont wworry

CA: i wwill take care of him

EB: eridan, no!

CA: hes here

EB: wait eridan!

CA: dont wworry

CA: i wwill take care of him

caligulasAquarium [CA] ceased trolling ectoBiologist [EB] !

 

You sighed as slid out of the chair, and walked back into your bathroom, cape moving behind you in proper, billowing cape fashion. Dave was making himself right at home already, you could hear him in the kitchen, pouring himself a drink. You cringed as you heard him drive a sword through your fridge door. His voice was soft, but not soft enough you couldn't hear, as he murmured, "That's more fucking like it. Can't have a proper fridge without a goddamn sword in it."

Rolling your eyes, you open the drawers of in your bathroom and rummage around. There's a single tube of lipstick wrapped up tightly in black velvet and you pull that out. Opening it, you smirk as you look at the bright purple stick. There's a huff and a sound of a single step and Dave is in the doorway. You glance at him from the corner of his eyes. His aging was both sudden and gradual to you. You've been looking at him for the greater part of your life, but the change in him is so rapid compared to your own that often you forget he has aged at all. 

"Ready yet, princess?" he arches an eyebrow over those stupid black glasses he never stops wearing unless you rip them right off his face. 

You hold your lips still as you slide the lipstick on. It makes your lips tingle, but not much else. You're almost completely immune to this anyway, with its origin from the sea. The concentration was intense, though, which is why you had any reaction at all. You look at yourself in the mirror, while you snarl out, "Hold your fuckin' horses, Davve. Wwe can fuck each other all you wwant as soon as I'm fuckin finished gettin' ready!"

He snorts and drinks from the glass in his hand, moving it back and forth so the ice clinks from side to side. You look at yourself in the mirror one las time, ignoring the comments he began to lay on you about the lipstic. In your mind echo the words that you told John. You were going to take care of Dave, as only a kismesis could.

If it was pity that twisted deep in your gut more than the hatred, well, no one had to know about that. Certainly not Dave. Definitely not any one else. You turned to face him and for one second the two of you simply look at each other, silent, watching. Nothing is said until Dave finishes his drink and crunches on the ice in that horrible way. How can he treat his teeth so? "Time to get your ass kicked, dollface." He smirks and throws the glass at you.

You push pity and love and your desire to protect him deep inside of yourself, deep as you can as you pull out Corsair's Aim. He once told you that to best a Strider you had to be like a Strider. As far as you can tell that meant in battle the use of emotion was taboo. That was fine with you, though. If you had to spend any more time thinking about what you were feeling, twisted and coiled tight in your chest, you would never be able to go through with this. 

This is, to you, the ultimate act of pity. 

But it must be done without feeling even one bit of it.


End file.
